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By Olen Steinhauer

Nearest Exit


Olen Steinhauer

Faced with the aptitude dissolution of his marriage and the top of his quiet, settled existence, reluctant secret agent Milo Weaver has no selection yet to come back to his outdated activity as a "tourist" for the CIA. yet prior to he can come again to the soiled paintings of espionage, he has to turn out his worthy to his new bosses. Armed with a stack of fake identities, Milo heads again to Europe, and for almost 3 months each task is carried out completely. Then he is urged to kill the fifteen-year-old daughter of Moldovan immigrants, and make the physique disappear. No questions. For Milo, it truly is an most unlikely activity, yet ignoring his handlers is both untenable. by surprise he is in a perilous place, stuck among correct and incorrect, among robust self-interested foes, among patriots and traitors―especially now that he has not anything left to lose…

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Milo had attacked him in his inn toilet, sure him in duct tape, and wrapped him in a bath curtain. Hatred or anger hadn’t prompted his activities, simply expediency. in reality, he beloved James Einner. “James,” he acknowledged, smiling. In James Einner’s stories, besides the fact that, the humiliation of that July incident coloured every thing, and while Milo caught out a hand to shake, Einner planted a speedy fist into the heart of Milo’s face, knocking him again opposed to the a ways door. surprise, then ache, crammed Milo’s beneficial properties. Mildly, Drummond acknowledged, “Now, James. ” Einner raised either his palms, his lengthy arms dancing merrily and his shiny blue eyes twinkling. “All performed, sir. ” The discomfort poured into Milo’s nostril now. His eyes have been awash in tears, and he tasted blood. “You fucka,” acknowledged Milo. “You bwoke my nostril. ” Einner took a silk handkerchief out of his pocket and passed it over, nonetheless smiling. “Meet your babysitter, Sebastian. He’ll be your companion when you vet Marko Dzubenko’s stories. in contrast to me, Einner doesn’t have a gentle spot for previous farts such as you. He’ll lower your throat on the first signal of disloyalty. Isn’t that correct, James? ” “You’ve acquired that correct, sir. ” With the handkerchief pressed to his leaking nostril, Milo seemed backward and forward among those males, and to the motive force, who was once attempting demanding to not snicker. As he tilted his head again to prevent an excessive amount of mess, he used to be ate up through hatred. now not for Drummond, or maybe James Einner, yet back for Yevgeny Primakov, who had deserted his parental tasks once that they had turn into inconvenient. Yevgeny’s abandonment was once not anything new, yet that made it no much less appalling. 14 They have been sitting seven rows aside in trainer, one other signal of Tourism’s finances constraints, and James Einner seemed cozy in his pin-striped, and never very reasonable, Tom Ford swimsuit (a ludicrous fee in view that such a lot travelers tossed their outfits after a number of wearings), whereas Milo used to be crammed into an ill-fitting and starchy Italian go well with. adequately predicting that the garments Milo had picked up again in Zürich wouldn’t be presentable by the point he left JFK—blood spatter didn’t sit down good with any country’s passport control—Drummond had introduced him the swimsuit, in addition to a wheeled Baggallini tote packed with prerequisites: the professional “Tourism package” so much travelers quickly learned used to be too bulky for the existence. when they had boarded this American airways flight to London, Milo plugged himself into his iPod, pressed a complimentary serviette to his nostrils, and tilted his head again so far as it is going to cross. He closed his eyes and listened to David Bowie, circa 1972: information man wept and instructed us, Earth was once rather demise He wasn’t indignant concerning the punch—he’d deserved it. final year’s struggle with Einner were fairly humiliating for the more youthful guy, who’d been dragged off a bathroom in the course of a bowel flow, then wrapped in a bath curtain, pants round his ankles, stained together with his personal shit. the true surprise used to be that he used to be nonetheless right here. Drummond hadn’t published him from Tourism; the morning hadn’t came across him freed from all this.

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